


The Last Supper: 2021

by JaxJasiroth



Category: Twitter - Fandom
Genre: Coronavirus, Death, M/M, Mild Smut, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-31
Updated: 2020-03-31
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:54:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23406355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JaxJasiroth/pseuds/JaxJasiroth
Summary: Jaboukie and Jovan brave martial law and corona together for a heartfelt, heartwarming love story
Relationships: jaboukie x jovan
Kudos: 15





	The Last Supper: 2021

The Last Supper: Part 2- 2021  
By Malachi- @gaystanacct

Jaboukie walked into his LA home and sighed, exhausted. He;’d gotten suspended from twitter again. Even though he had died laughing as he typed it out, the Twitter headquarters hadn’t found it even the least bit funny. He took his shirt off as he walked into the bedroom he and Jovan shared and heard a faint buzzing noise. Figuring it was probably just Jovan shaving their head in another manic spiral, Jaboukie ignored it and continued stripping. Just as he was sliding his socks off, he felt arms encircle his waist and smiled as Jovan buried their face into the crook of his neck. He could feel that he had been right about Jovan shaving their head and the stubble mixed with the short, yellow hairs that needed to be washed off and together they rubbed against his skin in an itchy but slightly comforting way. It was a way that felt like home.  
Before Jaboukie could get any mushier, the hands around his waist started to move down and cupped his cock through the briefs. Jaboukie let out a short gasp and Jovan massaged slightly before sliding their hands inside the shorter man’s briefs and toying with the head of his cock.  
Jovan grinned and whispered in his ear as the length grew and Jaboukie stifled a soft moan, “I see you’re enjoying this, babe. Maybe you should take me off punishment and we can continue.”  
Before Jovan could do anything else, Jaboukie wriggled out of Jovan’s arms and pushed them away with a Chesire Cat grin. “No can do, love. You hacked my twitter. It’s only been three days. I said no sex for a week.” And without bothering to wait for a reply, Jaboukie took off his briefs and strutted past Jovan, completely naked, into the bathroom. He stepped over all the hair and into the shower, silently cursing himself. As the hot water pounded Jaboukie’s back and steam fogged up the bathroom, both of them silently cursed themselves, not wanting to allow their pride to win.  
Jaboukie decided that he wasn’t going to deal with the blue balls from this incident and decided to quietly jerk off to relieve some of the tension he felt and started to touch himself, attaching Jovan’s face to his own hands in his brain. When he was close to cumming, some minutes later he felt a sharp pain spread throughout his abdomen, but not wanting to stop the sweet, sweet rush of serotonin and dopamine that would spread throughout his brain, he kept going.  
That was a mistake.  
Jaboukie screamed as he looked down and saw red  
And white.  
And green.  
Jovan heard the scream and rushed into the bathroom, busting open the door. This wasn’t a scream of someone cumming. This was one of shock and pain. They ripped open the shower curtain and saw Jaboukie collapsed on the shower floor, holding his stomach, his face pale and stark white and red washing down the drain. Panic ran throughout their mind as they immediately assumed blood but then they saw, noodles?  
Noodles? What the fuck? What the fuck was going on? Jaboukie gasped once more in pain and screamed at Jovan through gritted teeth, his silky Italian locks coated in red water with what seemed to be flecks of oregano. “Do something! Don’t just fucking stand there!”  
Jovan screamed back, panicking and very much not able to handle this. “What the fuck happened???”  
Jaboukie groaned and sat up as much as the pain in his abdomen allowed. “I had blue balls. And wanted to come. My stomach started to hurt. Then, I came. But it was red. And something thick and white slithered out. Like tentacles. Or noodles. If that makes sense. I don’t know. It smells different. Delicious. It’s not blood. I don’t know what it is.”  
Jovan dialed 911 as Jaboukie spoke, and then reached down and pet his hair in sympathy. They reached down and lifted him out of the bathtub and wrapped a towel around them to keep him warm and together they waited for the paramedics to arrive.  
As Jaboukie was carried out of the room on the stretcher, Jovan murmured to themself quietly, “I could swear...if I didn’t know any better. I’d say I smell spaghetti.”  
The doctors had no idea what Jaboukie had. They called in specialists from all over the country and even all over the world. It was live, worldwide televised news. The hospital had security on every exit to prevent paparazzi from getting in. It was quite literally a media circus. Finally, they found someone who seemed to know what Jaboukie had, though it was the most ridiculous explanation anyone had ever heard. Though, there were no other options so the young couple agreed to hear the man out.  
The man was a missionary from The Chruch of the Flying Spaghetti Monster. This was reason enough to turn the man away at the door, but Jaboukie insisted. The two were desperate for answers and Jaboukie got worse by the day as his innards turned to pasta. The man started off, “You have cancer of the Italian cells. All of your Italian cells are turning to pasta. It was what happened to our lord and savior, Dr. Gregory House. He now exists in the great sky of Ravioli and within all of us, as we devoured him.”  
The man continued to ramble excitedly and the two were in shock. It sounded so fake. Like a dream. This whole thing felt like a dream. Jovan wished they could wake up. But they couldn’t. This kind of cancer was terminal. And everything was real. And Jaboukie didn’t have long. The man handed the two a pamphlet with a sympathetic look on his face and left the dazed couple in silence. Together, they coped the only way they knew how. They started tweeting.

Due to the ongoing quarantine in LA, Jovan wasn’t even allowed in the room anymore. They sat outside and watched Jaboukie’s slowly disintegrating body for weeks on end and remembered how they met. They dreamed of it. They lived it. They did nothing else but watch the love of their life tweet about how his dick was the first thing that turned edible as if it hadn’t been before. Jovan laughed with tears in their eyes and thought about the impending date. The date where the whole town would eat Jaboukie. The date where everyone got a plate with death. Jovan hated the idea of anyone sharing the love of their life but 162 pounds of possible was simply not something they could physically eat alone, though they would certainly try.  
And weeks passed. And Jovan disintegrated with Jaboukie. Together they lost weight. Watching each other through the windows. The longing in each other’s eyes they begged for even a touch. And together, almost telepathically, they remembered how they met.  
They had met on Grindr. They had both seen each other’s profiles and had done a double-take at first, figuring it was a fluke, a catfish. In the 21st century, love blossomed. Jovan had dm'ed Jaboukie first and once they had confirmed each other’s identities, things started to escalate. In the middle of the night, both quarantined and lonely, their conversations turned from menial twitter references and Instagram tags to something more. They were horn and lonely and only the world could come between them. Then, they started sexting during the day, continuing conversations from the night before. 3 months into quarantine and it was like Jovan had finally woken up, they had something to live for in this day and age of nightmarish boredom and a routine that reeked of desperation.  
Then, came the ultimate test.  
Jaboukie sent a text that said: Meet me behind the coffee shop on 5th avenue on Friday.  
LA had been under martial law for quite some time. This meant risking their lives, desperately wondering if the other would show. And when they kissed behind the coffee shop and fucked against the dumpsters, Jovan finally understood what Taylor Swift meant when she sang “Sparks Fly”, As they came together, as they ran from soldiers, laughing their asses off with their pants hanging down, as they stumbled through the door, out of breath and excited, Jovan felt every word in their soul.

And then the day finally came. They couldn’t hold Jaboukie on the ventilator any longer. He didn’t even have lungs anymore and the coronavirus patients badly needed them. LA was one of the worst-hit cities outside of New York.  
Jovan sobbed as they took as a plate. The lines for those who wanted to eat out of Jaboukie’s body were down the block. Tears dripped into their spaghetti as they took the first bite, and as they moved out of the way for others to enter the room with their plastic forks, Jovan could swear they could taste Jaboukie’s taint on their tongue one last time and smiled with tears in their eyes. It was the most delicious spaghetti they’d ever had.


End file.
